Skin

I feel nothing caressing it,

Feel nothing pressing hard on it,
Just the pressure of my finger nails dug deep
Leaving behind temporary marks.
Skin, its so strange, my own means nothing to me
Yet one touch for you, even one glance
Means so much more, makes me feel like I'm made of porcelain-
I'd break if you touch it, resurrect when your's would lie next to mine.
Your's makes me feel alive, with an eternally blazed fire
The mere memory of it makes me want to live for it
If nothing else.
Skin..